


a crimson headache, aching blush (this is heaven in hiding)

by orphan_account



Series: we'll be looking for sunlight, or the headlights (till our wide eyes burn blind) [5]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Castro District, Cock Worship, Declarations Of Love, Dirty Dancing, Endearments, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Exploring, Fix-It, Fluff, Frottage, Gay Bar, Gentle Sex, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Love Bites, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pet Names, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Pride, Protectiveness, Road Trips, Romance, Safe Sane and Consensual, San Francisco, San Francisco Pride, Size Difference, Size Kink, Summer Love, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, all consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 02:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12761355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Elio and Oliver take a road trip to San Francisco.Sequel to:keep me by your side. You don't necessarily need to read the first series but it probably would help!





	a crimson headache, aching blush (this is heaven in hiding)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheekycheekbones (Cheeycheekbones)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeycheekbones/gifts).



> If anything is wrong, please let me know. I've never been to San Fran, so I don't know the place. If anything sounds off or wrongly worded in a way that could be offensive, please also let me know. 
> 
> I did a lot of research for this chapter and I hope it paid off. Any mistakes are my own. I own no one.

* * *

Elio pushed himself up onto the counter in the kitchen.

He grabbed a piece of toast that Oliver had just spread with jam and took a bite with a teasing smile. Oliver laughed and dropped a kiss on Elio’s forehead, eyes bright in the morning light. They both smelt like soap and toothpaste after showering and brushing their teeth together, amongst other things in bubbly water. The very thought made Elio shiver with want.

“I was thinking,” Oliver said, making their tea while frying two eggs, “we should take road trip to San Francisco. You’re finished with exams for this year now.”

“For Pride,” Elio smiled, “yeah, it’ll be fun.”

Oliver kissed his lips this time, sticky with jam and hummed happily into his lover’s mouth, “for Pride and also, we’d be comfortable there.”

Elio pulled back, “I wish it wasn’t like this. That we didn’t have to pick and choose where we went. Straight people don’t have to.”

“I know, baby,” Oliver replied, putting the eggs on new pieces of toast, pouring milk into their tea and then kissed Elio’s lips again. Elio wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck. When they pulled back to breathe, he buried his face in Oliver’s neck and kissed him there.

Oliver smiled sadly and held him closer, “it won’t always be like this.” He leaned back to cup Elio’s face. He wiped the tears from Elio’s eyes before they reached his cheeks.

They were okay where they were, but it wasn’t fair that they had to hide. They shouldn’t have to hide. They should be comfortable wherever they were. Hatred and prejudice should **never** exist. But sadly, it did and Oliver always worried about Elio. And he wanted them to be safe.

They were quiet for a moment and then Elio drew back and kissed Oliver hungrily. Kissing Elio was always sweet with an edge of desperation. Something burst from Elio’s chest and encircled around Oliver, fierce and needy, until he melted against Elio’s body, held him closer and gave him everything he could. And of course, Oliver gathered Elio against his chest, letting the brunette nestle there. He wondered if ever, Elio would trust that he wouldn’t leave again.

When they pulled back from each other, Oliver cupped Elio’s face, stroking his cheeks. He was wearing a shirt, Oliver’s Billowy and underwear and Oliver had always found it adorable, positively mouth-watering when Elio wore his clothes.

“You know I’m never leaving you,” Oliver said. His voice was hushed, like an unspoken secret between them. Elio nodded, blushing.

“I know,” he said. He held Oliver’s gaze for a moment, letting the second pass between them. A promise, a vow. And then he pushed up on his hands to try and catch Oliver’s mouth again.

Oliver chuckled, kissing his forehead again, “come on, sweet thing. Breakfast.”

Elio’s stomach swooped. He loved it when Oliver let himself go and called him sweet names. It made his heart flutter happily in his chest.

*

San Francisco held one of the largest LGBTQ+ communities in the world. It also held a lot of history of activism, in taking steps towards progressive changes for LGBTQ+ rights.

Even though where Oliver was teaching in New York City and where Elio was studying in Connecticut, there was a rise in activism, particularly with the legalisation of same sex activity in the 70’s (Connecticut) or early 80’s (New York), both were not as prominent as San Francisco, despite the fact that in California, same sex activity was not legal until 1976, five years after Connecticut made the change. Oliver had booked them a place in a hotel in the Castro District which was the best known LGBTQ+ village in the world and they were going to take part in San Francisco Pride, as well as explore the community.

The minute they arrived in their hotel room, Elio jumped on the bed and put his face in the pillow. It smelt like soap. He sighed happily. They’d taken an internal flight and all Elio wanted to do was curl up and sleep in a comfortable bed before they explored the place.

The hotel room wasn’t too big. It had a bed and a TV in and a large window which overlooked the village. Their room was on the top floor and from their window, they could see the six-stripe Rainbow Flag flying over various buildings.

“Ah, ah,” Oliver laughed, “no sleeping. You won’t be able to tonight.” He turned Elio over and started tickling his stomach, “come on, baby.”

Elio giggled, trying to arch away from Oliver as he laughed until his eyes watered and he sat up. “Okay, okay, I give, I give. I’m awake.”

Oliver pulled him in closer, sitting him on his lap and kissed him heatedly. Exploring could wait an hour or so, especially when Elio fisted his hands in Oliver’s top and made that whimpering noise he loved to hear so much.

*

The first place they visited was Twin Peaks.

It was breath-taking, a panorama of San Francisco, even though the hike was tiring and the trails took a while, when they reached, it was beautiful. It was a warm day, the sun was high in the sky and the blue heavens above them created a pretty back drop for the shining landscape around them. Shrouded by greenery, the view was both wonderful at night and at day.

“Pretty,” Elio said, taking a deep breath when they reached. The fresh air on his face felt amazing, it kissed his cheeks and ran over his body. He held out his arms either side of him and closed his eyes, just basking in the moment, until Oliver came up behind him.

He wrapped his arms around Elio’s waist and pulled him back into his chest, “it really is.” Then he ducked down and kissed Elio’s forehead and he wasn’t only talking about the sight before them.

Elio started taking pictures as Oliver did too because watching the world around them coming to life was just too magnificent to ignore.

*

The Castro Theatre was a tall white building, with intricate architecture that from a distance and in the sun looked like golden patterns similar to ancient designs. It had a great arched central window above film listings in big black letters. The film listings centre piece was red and had golden outlines and blue lining. It stood, tall and proud, a historic landmark in San Francisco.

Inside, it was an old theatre setting, huge ceilings with chairs all facing a stage. The architecture of the theatre, like the outside, paid homage to an older era of style. It lined the ceiling with arches and patterns, mimicking the texture of the Greeks, with a luxurious and ornate ceiling. The walls were concaved, as though copying the setting of a Greek theatre in the outdoors, with pillars and artwork of the era it was replicating.

They spent an evening there, watching a film which had come out earlier that month.

It was the first time they’d been out to the theatre and been comfortable enough to sit close, with Oliver’s arm around Elio, sharing popcorn between them.

It was the first time Oliver had kissed him in the dark in a cinema like place, full of sticky fingers and buttery lips, in public. He was free here, at peace. It made Elio a little needy and hot under the collar, going closer to Oliver, like a flower goes towards the sun.

His noises melted against Oliver’s mouth, hands fisting in the older man’s shirt.

Someone behind them whistled.

Elio blushed in the dark and buried his face in Oliver’s shirt.

He would never get used to hearing Oliver laugh so freely.

*

Castro Station (note: now, called QBar) was a bar which had a stained glass window etched with the bar’s train logo on. It came alive in bright lights and music pumping from indoors. The charm and allure of the place is what attracted Elio in the first place. He found himself pulling on Oliver’s hand as they were returning to their hotel after their third day in Castro. He wanted to take a look inside.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to pick up a stranger at a bar,” Oliver said teasingly in Elio’s ear, kissing him there.

“Oh, really?” Elio asked, smirking as he looked up at Oliver.

“Yeah, and you’d definitely be him,” Oliver grinned and then he was heading inside. For a moment, Elio stood stunned before he followed his boyfriend. Well, not boyfriend for the time being if they were going to play this right.

Inside, it was mulling with people. Large lights overhung the bar and seating areas, giving the place a golden hum, warmth and comfort.

And then Elio’s heart skipped a beat. One minute Oliver was in front of him and the next he had disappeared. He searched the crowds of people for his boyfriend but couldn’t find him. Excitement built in his belly at the thought that Oliver could probably see him and he made his way to an empty seat at the bar, knowing that Oliver would find him.

If that was the game they were playing.

His eyes darted from face to face, trying to see if he could pin point where his blond haired, tall lover had disappeared too. And then he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

“Hey honey,” a man with bright hazel eyes said, catching his attention. He turned and smiled, trying to quiet the pounding of his heart.

“Hi,” Elio replied. The man was bulky and tall. He had a soft face and pretty eyes.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, resting his large hand on Elio’s back, tracing circles there.

Elio opened his mouth to reply when over the pounding of music, he felt a familiar presence at the back of the bar. He turned and saw Oliver watching him with hungry eyes.

“Looks like someone’s already picked you,” the man beside him chuckled and patted him gently on the back. Elio stood on shaky legs and made his way through the crowd, laughing when a man span him around and another kissed him on the cheek.

When he reached Oliver, the older man pulled him in close. “Hey there, sweet thing,” Oliver whispered throatily in his ear, hands possessive on his hips.

Elio let out a shocked noise and buried his face in Oliver’s neck. “ _Oliver_ …”

“Ah, _ah_ ,” Oliver grinned, drew back to cup his face. “How does a beautiful man like you know my name?” There was an electric spark between them. The moment felt charged with some unknowable energy, some untameable thing, beautiful and real and heady.

Elio moaned and parted his lips. He nudged his nose against Oliver’s. And Oliver was reminded of their nights in Rome, when Elio had been drunk and they were stumbling through the streets. Their faces so close, mouths desperate against the other’s. Kisses slow and sensual, teasing, lips barely touching. Air passing between them, brushing against the other until their mouths fell into place. Lips against lips, tongues tasting alcohol and sweetness.

This moment felt just like that. Elio fell against Oliver, body trembling with want as the music played around them. He rolled his hips against Oliver, hands seeking purchase on the older man’s shoulders. Their eyes met in the dark, like ships in the night, seeking the other. Elio pressed himself against Oliver and the other wrapped himself around him, as he always did. Holding, keeping safe.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” Oliver asked, lips brushing over Elio’s, stroking his cheeks.

Elio smiled, dazed. Eyes on Oliver’s mouth. He leaned forwards and kissed him slow, sensually. Drawing it out. Tasting and taking whatever he could from Oliver.

“Elio,” he replied.

Oliver hummed happily against him and then drew him in close as their bodies moved like angels in the sky against the other, sweaty and sexy as their mouths met.

Oliver’s kisses were always passionate, deep and raw. There was always a craving behind them, a deep need. Something that went unexplained. Untouchable, something so pure. In Italy, it had been because of the short time they had together, the fear of being separated. Now, it was the need to always be near Elio, to always be against him, with him.

When they parted, Elio put his forehead against Oliver’s. He whispered, “take me back to your hotel room.” Oliver was more than happy to do so.

*

Oliver held Elio’s wrists above his head on their pillows.

He’d asked of course and Elio had agreed enthusiastically. Their mouths were pressed together, bodies sweaty as bedsheets fell down to the end of the bed. Elio’s whimpers filled the room as Oliver wrapped his free hand around both of their cocks.

“Baby,” Oliver whispered, drawing back from Elio’s mouth. He kissed down Elio’s neck and littered his chest with opened mouth kisses, leaving love bites in his wake. “I love how _small_ you are, here and here and here.” He squeezed Elio’s cock gently, nipped at Elio’s chest and hips.

Elio moaned, arching into Oliver’s hold.

“So beautiful,” Oliver hummed, kissing down Elio’s trembling body. He smelt like Oliver’s cologne, tinged with sweat and sweetness, like sunshine and flowers. God, he loved him.

“Perfect, you’re perfect,” Oliver groaned, sucking marks into Elio’s stomach, tracing his hipbones with his mouth and tongue. “ _Mine_.”

His eyes darkened as he leaned up and ducked down to press his mouth against Elio’s. “Do you have any idea how sweet you are? How much I wanted to show them all, how you’re mine?”

Elio sobbed, louder than before. Oliver grinned into his cheek and started stroking them both in time. Elio writhed on the bed. If he could, he would wrap his arms and legs around Oliver’s back.

It felt so irresistibly good, to be held by Oliver. To feel how small he was in Oliver’s hold. To feel the difference in their bodies. To feel the heat building and building between them. Like the drop, drop, _drop_ of water in a bucket, filling and _filling_. Like light seeping in from an open window, slowly and then all at once. Like warmth filtering in from a flickering fire. A fire crackling in the winter, drawing out heat, coaxing, coaxing, until the pressure grew too strong.

Until the pleasure over took their bodies. Their bodies moved together, skin against skin. Lips pressed to needy mouths, words whispered into gentle kisses.

And it built and built and _built_.

Oliver held Elio’s eyes, hand still holding Elio’s wrists. Their hearts hammered together in their chests, beating for the other, singing for the other.

“Come, sweet thing,” Oliver purred, mouthing at Elio’s neck, “ _come_.” He demanded it the second time, stroking them both faster together until Elio pushed up, back arching and came between them, all over Oliver’s hand, over their cocks.

It sent Oliver spiralling after him until they were panting into each other’s space.

Elio smiled, “that was _hot_.”

Oliver grinned and kissed him deeply.

*

San Francisco Pride came with a flourish of bright colours and was held on the last full weekend of June. Elio and Oliver had already been staying in the Castro District for about a week and when the festival and parade came around, they got up early to meet crowds and crowds of people on the streets. People had painted flags on their faces, they’d come out in support, full of energy and strength. It was a day of colour and friendly faces, full of people who came together to fight for freedom, acceptance and recognition.

It was probably the best weekend Elio had had in a long time.

Holding hands with Oliver, marching with people who loved them as their own.

He’d never felt more accepted in his life.

He only wished all walks of life could be the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Again note: 
> 
> If anything is wrong, please let me know. I've never been to San Fran, so I don't know the place. If anything sounds off or wrongly worded in a way that could be offensive, please also let me know.
> 
> I did a lot of research for this chapter and I hope it paid off.
> 
> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are appreciated!


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